Only Us
by InformalSpoofer
Summary: It is not God who kills the children. Not fate that butchers them or destiny that feeds them to the dogs. It's us. Only us. Blaire Roche's final days. Child molestation and abuse, potentially triggering.


**Warn: **Child abuse and molestation, potentially triggering. No happy endings here.

Only Us

He seems okay at first. "Blaire," he calls her, and explains how her daddy is a friend of his and how he just needs to talk to her for a minute. Blaire has been told not to talk to strangers, though, so she tugs at her dress and tries to explain that; that her mama will be mad, Mister.

But he takes her hand in both of his, real lightly, like her grandma does when they see her for Christmas. After a minute, she decides it is okay after all, if only for a little while, and he promises he'll take her home right away, so she follows him into his truck and buckles up.

-

"You want a burger?" he asks, and pets her hair real nicely.

"Okay," she replies, even though mama will be upset at her for spoiling her appetite. He still hasn't gotten to what he wants to talk about, but adults are smarter than her and she has to respect them, so she stays nice and quiet while he cranks down his window and orders two burgers and a small Coke, for her.

When they get the food he sets the bag in her lap. "Go ahead and eat," he says. "We have a ways to go."

Even though she has permission, she waits a while. The warmth feels nice through her dress, two distinct circles where the burgers' heat seeps through the paper bag. Once the smell gets too much for her, she fishes one of the burgers out of the bag - the smaller one, of course; she has her manners - and starts to eat.

They're sitting at a stop light when he looks at her, resting his elbow on his window even though it's not rolled down anymore. The way he's looking at her, with a funny smile that's kinda proud, gives her the creeps. She doesn't look up again until he puts the truck in park, and by then she's realized something bad has happened.

-

He doesn't tie her up immediately. Instead he tells her to sit real still while he goes out to yell at his dogs, which won't stop barking. The sound's frightening, even though Blaire's not afraid of dogs and even asked for a puppy for her birthday last year. They live in too small of an apartment, though. Her daddy gave her a stuffed puppy, which was really good, too.

Once he's out of the door, she slips off the dusty chair and starts sneaking out. She knows she's real good at sneaking, because she always scares her mama and brother, at least when she wants. The good thing is the house isn't too big, so she can't get lost, not really, even if she takes a wrong turn; so she tiptoes out of the room, down the hallway.

"Barney, would you shut the _fuck_ up!"

For some reason hearing him cuss like that scares her more than before; the hairs stand up all over her neck and she clamps her hand over her mouth even though she wasn't making a noise. She's halfway down the hallway, now. The light from the window over the front door is just around the next corner, so if she hurries, she'll be okay. There's probably a cop on the street who can take care of her, and maybe put the kidnapper in jail.

The back door slams even though the one dog's still making weird, soft, sad noises. That must be better than barking, though, because she can hear his heavy footsteps stomping through the house, practically shaking it. Blaire decides to just run for it when she glances back and catches sight of him turning down the hallway.

"Hey - _hey!_ I told you to stay _put_ -" His footsteps are like thunder now as he charges after her.

It's a short chase.

Blaire starts screaming, no words at first, high-pitched and tearing at her throat; then, as he hoists her up she screeches, "Help! _Help!_ Somebody he-" The wind's all knocked out of her when he throws her down on the floor. She starts to cry, quiet at first like when she scrapes her knee and her brother's already making fun of her for acting like a little baby so she doesn't want him to see.

He makes her sit up and starts tying up her hands, cursing at her when she struggles and starts to sob. She feels sick. Maybe if she pukes on him he'll be so grossed out that he'll kick her out; maybe if she cries loud enough he'll get that exasperated look her mama gets just before she leaves her alone to cry out her temper. She can't get the puke up, though, and when she cries loud he backhands her.

"Now you just be _quiet_ and stay _put,_ you understand?" he asks. His face is sweaty and red and he doesn't need to threaten her.

He storms out and she curls in on herself. Everything feels too tight in all the wrong ways and her wrists already hurt.

She can hear him talking on the phone. The dog outside isn't whimpering anymore. She hopes it's dead, and hoping it makes her start to cry again. This time it doesn't stop.

-

He puts her in the dark and gags her, because once, when she heard him go outside, she started screaming for help. Now she just rubs her wrists back and forth and tries to stop shaking long enough to work out a plan, because every hero works out a plan so things will be okay.

-

There's a lot of footsteps banging around and dogs barking and even more silence, but Blaire doesn't know how much time really passes. She has to go to the bathroom, and then it gets worse and worse until she realizes he probably just left her here to die and no one's gonna see that she peed in her favorite dress, anyway. She still feels prickly with shame after she's done it, and though she hasn't cried in a while she starts up again. Surely someone's noticed she's gone by now, and the police are looking for her. She's not _really_ gonna die; she _can't._ That doesn't happen to good girls.

-

When he opens up her little closet again, it's dark all behind him. Blaire's half-asleep, exhausted from crying and screaming, and her face hurts almost more than her hands, just in a different way.

"Okay, Blaire," he says. He lifts her in his arms so gently that she would fall asleep again if he wasn't him. She squirms. "We're gonna take some pictures, and you're going to sit and do what I tell you to, and if you do that I'll let you go home. You understand?"

Outside, a police siren starts to wail. Blaire's heart picks up; she's positive in that moment that it's for her. She nods and tries not to smile, because that'd give it away.

"Good girl," he tells her. He sets her down nice and easy on a bed that feels too springy to be comfortable. He unties her hands and pulls off her dress.

Blaire folds her arms over her chest and crosses her legs, embarrassed that he's seeing her nearly naked. He doesn't seem to care, jerking off her underwear with some difficult until he holds her down with one hand. When he moves away, she curls in on herself, wishing she could cover her butt, too.

"Come on, Blaire, sit up."

The police sirens are getting louder. She complies.

"Good, good girl. Now move your hands."

They must be on the street by now; it sounds like they're right outside the door. He glances towards the sound and licks his lips, nervous. There's a big black camera in his hands, and he fiddles with it a little bit.

Surely the police are right outside. It's so _loud;_ her ears are starting to ring and the flashing lights flicker under the door. They're going to burst in at any minute now - they are - and they'll take her home.

The moment passes. The sirens start to fade out. He lets out a breath and raises the camera chest-high, presenting it to her; Blaire can feel herself wilting even as a powerful hurt swells inside of her.

"Haven't you ever wanted to be a movie star?"

-

She blinks in the flash and tries not to cover herself, because she doesn't want him to hit her again.

-

He crawls onto the bed after a while and touches her; her face, her chest. It's not at all like when her mother gives her baths and dries her off, or even like when her brother wrestles with her. It doesn't take long for everything bright and terrible inside of her to break open, and when she starts to sob, quietly, pleading with him to go away, he only shushes her.

-

Before he ties her up again he gives her a glass of water and some food; then he puts her dress back on and tells her a bedtime story. He just shrugs when she remains downcast, sniffling.

"You'll be home in no time," he tells her, and lays her down again in the closet.

She chooses to believe him. It's the only thing she _can_ do. As she drifts off, the sound of dogs barking transforms into disjointed dreams that can't decide if they want to be good dreams or bad ones.

(A dog bounds across her house's kitchen and tackles her just like in the cartoons; he barks, and barks, but it's really meaning _hello, I missed you, I love you, Master._

She is in a dark alleyway with shadows looming around her and the dog's jaws close around her wrist, barking even as it sinks in, scabs cracking open, staining its teeth red.

There is the soft click of a camera, and the open mouth of a dog's mouth moves behind every time, the two mixing until it is one and the same.)

Each time she wakes, her heart pounds; but she doesn't cry anymore.

-

He lets her out a few times a day so she can go to the bathroom and eat. Usually it's not much, but pretty soon she's too hungry to care.

Even when she recognizes his footsteps for what they are, she still sometimes thinks they might be her father's, stomping through the house late at night. Every time she hears sirens, she hopes.

She thinks about what she will tell her dad, when she sees him. Probably nothing about the way he strips her dress and makes her sit still; but she will admit how scared she was, and that he hit her if she wasn't good. One night she realizes she'll have to tell her parents that she's probably pregnant, even though she's not very sure how that works. The knowledge sits heavy on her, and she daydreams about giving the baby up for adoption, of living long enough for her stomach to stick out and become a hard, round bowl.

-

One night, she can hear him talking loud and fast to someone on the phone, cussing. Something breaks with an immediate thud and shatter and she whimpers, balling herself up as tight as she can go. She hopes it means he'll leave her alone.

-

It doesn't.

-

"Please, no, please, please, mommy, mom, mommy -"

He stands over her, all covered in shadow, but she knows he's mad at her. Outside, there is a heavy scratching and a high-pitched bark. Blaire bursts into tears.

"Please, please, I'll be good, I'll be -"

He kneels. The axe in his hand gleams.

" - please no no no Daddy Dad_dy_ -"

He lifts his arm and slams it down again.


End file.
